Fratricide
by Hanzao
Summary: SR1. Raziel has mixed feelings about his new role as Angel of Death and the price of vengeance.
1. Melchiah Slain

WARNING : Spoilers for Legacy of Kain: Soul Reaver (If you haven't already played it... stop reading this and pick it up – it's only about $10 now...)  
  
This story is from Raziel's POV during his period of fratricide...

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_My life suffocates_

_planting the seeds of hate_

_I've loved - turned to hate_

_trapped far beyond my fate  
  
I give, you take_

_this life that I forsake_

_Been cheated of my youth -_

_You turn this lie to truth  
  
Anger, misery_

_You will suffer unto me..._  
  
_(Harvester of Sorrow - Metallica)_

_  
  
_  
Should I feel ashamed?  
  
My fight is with Kain. He was my Lord, but also very much a father to me. He rescued me from the twilight world of death and gave me the purity of un- life. I was well aware of the price of this gift and dutifully served him for countless ages of Man. I fought wars for him. I slaughtered armies of crazed human warriors. I destroyed the rebellion that threatened to tear the Clans apart centuries ago.  
  
Then in an instant, all my years of faithful service were thrown to the side like the torn wings from my back just as I was thrown like so much refuse into the swirling vortex of the Abyss.  
  
It was an eternity of unspeakable pain as my flesh was torn from my bones. My blood boiled in the acidic liquid rushing all around me. The pain... the torture... was this the reward for a millennia of devotion to my sire? Was this the just punishment for a mutation that was out of my control? Or was it just simple _jealousy?_  
  
Then as if the hell I endured was not bad enough, I had to end it all by finding myself in service to a new master, one who had the external appearance of Kain's internal foul, demonic spirit.  
  
Now here I find myself standing before the dead body of my brother Melchiah, ground like so much meat, rotting in this infernal underground tomb. I have killed him and taken his soul. I have grown stronger by murdering one whom I had trusted as my family, my brother, my friend.  
  
The voice of that old parasite that I now serve tells me that I will continue to grow stronger by killing my brothers. This Elder God says that the monstrous visages of my deformed brethren show the inner evil of the creatures created by Kain that I could never see before. He says that my brothers, along with Kain and all vampires are abominations that plague Nosgoth.  
  
Yes, I can feel the strength. I can feel the ages that have passed since my damnation. Taking Melchiah's soul has opened my eyes to the destruction of Nosgoth and the debasement of our once pure race.  
  
But I also feel the loneliness of being trapped underground for centuries. I can feel the terror of the coming doom and the self-hatred that the mutations had brought my brother. I feel the years of pain, of fear, of _hunger_...  
  
It is too much to bear. My hatred of Kain can propel me toward him, but how can I live with this cursed existence? When my only reason for being here is the slaughter of my former allies? When I am brought so low as to commit fratricide just to sate this new hunger of mine for revenge? Is that reason enough to commit whatever part of me that survived the Abyss to further damnation?  
  
No, I've had enough of this.  
  
With Melchiah's soul I can now enter the Sanctuary of the Clans and face Kain at his seat of power. If, that is, the bastard is still there...

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Well there you go. Let me know if you like it and want me to continue.

Thanks for reading! All reviews welcome!


	2. Sanctuary of the Clans

Hello everybody and thanks for the reviews. I didn't expect to get such a quick response, but hey, if you'll read it then I'll definitely write it!

This time around I will switch from Raziel's POV to a present-tense third person format. This is my favorite way of writing – especially action sequences.

For reference, this scene involves Raziel's return to the Sanctuary of the Clans just after his defeat of Melchiah. Also, the conversations will not be word for word with the game, just so you know…

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_Pure black, looking clear_

_My work is done soon here_

_Try giving back to me_

_Give back which used to be_

_Drink up, shoot in_

_Let the beatings begin_

_Distributor of Pain_

_Your loss becomes my gain_

_Anger, misery_

_You will suffer unto me…_

_(Harvester of Sorrow Metallica)_

The Sanctuary of the Clans leans against the mountains like a broken and battered corpse, a mere shadow of its once proud visage. It is the seat of Kain's great empire and the birthplace of the damnation of Nosgoth, for it is here that the ruins of the Pillars stand like the tombstones of a millennia of fallen heroes. Past the crumbling walls and broken terraces of the palace and inside the great chamber sits Kain's throne at the foot of the Pillar of Balance. Empty and desolate, inhabited only by the maggots and ghosts borne of physical and spiritual decay, the cold stone of the throne sits as empty as the vision of its creator.

If Raziel could spit, he would.

Entering the chamber and approaching the dais of the Pillars he gazes upon the barren throne in disgust. Once, Raziel had been proud to kneel before that seat as if praying to an altar. Kain was a God to him, and his former master knew it well. Raziel now realizes that all along he had mistaken the smug look from the eyes of his Lord to be some twisted form of love. After all, Kain is his sire. Or at least, he was until Kain destroyed him and Raziel was brought back from the brink of oblivion by a giant squid.

Rage makes whatever blood left in Raziel's body boil. The memory of the pain of the Abyss and the hypocrisy that caused his demise turns his vision red with maniacal fury. It is this emotion that suddenly calls to Raziel's attention that he is not alone.

"Well, well," a very familiar voice calls out from Raziel's left, several meters away. "It appears that the Abyss did not destroy you after all. However, I must say that you are very much the worse for wear…"

"_Kain__!_" Raziel snarls, turning. "So, you decided not to abandon this world after all? From the state of things, I assumed you threw your kingdom aside as you did me!"

Kain steps forward from behind the Pillar of Conflict and toward Raziel. Bearing the dreaded Soul Reaver in his right hand and a look of amusement upon his gnarled face, the ancient vampire emanates a very real sense of power.

"I see that you have slain my child Melchiah," Kain observes as he walks around him at a distance, as if evaluating Raziel's current state. "Did you find it difficult? That is, to kill one whom you once trusted?"

"No more difficult than you found it to let him become twisted and deformed down in that dungeon, I imagine!" Raziel fumes at him. "Do you know what it was like? Do you have any comprehension of the hell you sentenced him to? Or of what you did to _me_?"

Kain stops walking and stands to face Raziel.

"What do you know of hell?" Kain points the tip of the Soul Reaver at Raziel. "When it was _I_ who was forced into a situation beyond my control? Played like a pawn, hurtled toward a decision with two consequences which were both beyond my fledgling comprehension? I have made my choices Raziel, just as you have made yours."

"I once chose to serve you, Kain. Now you see where that got me," Raziel says, gesturing with his hands toward his broken form. Then he cocks his head to one side with a sneer. "So, perhaps I shall choose another option… shall we say, _revenge_?"

Reckless beyond all belief, Raziel hurtles himself straight at Kain. Heedless of the Soul Reaver clutched in his former Lord's grip, Raziel reaches out with his claws to rip out Kain's throat.

In a flash, Kain is gone. Raziel lands and then immediately looks all around the chamber to find any sign of his quarry. Within seconds he sees Kain emerge from out of nowhere to the base of the Pillar of Death. Raziel quickly rushes at Kain.

Kain sees Raziel coming and hurtles a bolt of magical energy at him. The strike hits Raziel squarely on the chest and stops him in his tracks, bringing him to the ground. A soon as Raziel overcomes the temporary paralysis, he looks back up to find Kain laughing as he disappears once again.

Raziel turns and witnesses Kain's reemergence near the end of the dais. Knowing he can't run fast enough to reach him in time to stop the coming blast, Raziel instead jumps backward and kicks off from the Pillar of Death. He leaps through the air and comes down hard upon Kain. Kain is knocked backward a few steps yet remains on his feet.

"You're going to have to do better than that, Raziel," Kain taunts as he disappears once again.

Raziel turns, trying to see where Kain has teleported to next. However, despite his supernatural instincts he cannot sense exactly where Kain is at. He can still feel his presence, but _where_?

Another bolt of energy blasts Raziel forward and onto his knees. This blast was much stronger than the last – he had apparently rather upset Kain with that last blow. The electric pulse of the energy blast has terribly wracked his form. It takes him a few seconds to regain his senses. Shaking the feeling of weakening physical control over his body, Raziel looks up and tries to bring himself back to his feet.

Raziel stops in mid-motion. There are two things that Raziel realizes that he should have noticed. The first is the fact that Kain now stands directly before him, swinging down with all of his might the only weapon he has ever carried in all his years and the Lord of Nosgoth – the Soul Reaver.

The second thing he now notices is the bit of irony that this situation now entails. Not only does Raziel now kneel before his Lord as in the manner of times long gone, but he now does it as he is being killed by this same Lord… _for a second time_.

The serpentine blade of the ancient weapon strikes down upon Raziel's frame with all the might of a sadistically deranged demi-god. The force of this blow is so great in fact that not only does it destroy its intended victim but the blade itself as well.

Kain looks from Raziel to the hilt of his broken Soul Reaver.

In the fraction of a second that it takes Raziel to lose the cohesion of his physical body and be thrown back into the immortal Spirit Realm, he catches a glimmer of a most bizarre emotion in Kain's eyes. For it is truly odd that Kain should feel that feeling, especially in a time such as this. In fact, were it not for the understanding of his Lord's character drawn from thousands of years of service to him, Raziel would never believe that Kain should actually be _happy_.

However, all thoughts of Kain's mood are immediately stricken from Raziel's mind as he finds himself once again totally immersed in the Spirit Realm. He has gone where Kain can not find him to finish the job he started. Even if he could, Raziel doubts that his former Lord could do him harm in this place.

For here in this twisted reflection of Nosgoth that one may call Limbo, Raziel has found a new Master and a new form of Servitude.

Not that this situation was much to his liking, but, Raziel figures it is a better deal to live as a wraith and have his revenge against his assassins than to commit himself fully to his Master's Wheel of Fate. At least he has some choice over how he can "live."

What he has no choice over is the _thing_ which now coils itself around his right arm. Glowing with a radiant blue light, as alive as flame on a lake of burning oil, it snakes its way around his limb and all the way to his shoulder before ceasing its advancement. Instead, it continues to twist and roll itself over in the form of some bizarre, ghostly blade which eerily extends to the point where in the Physical Realm Kain had last held the Soul Reaver.

"What is this?" Raziel shouts, trying to shake the coil of energy off his arm as if it were some fly.

Then, as if witnessing the whole act play out in silent observation, the now all-too familiar voice of the Elder God booms in Raziel's ears.

_"Your battle with Kain has released a timeless energy from the bonds of the physical blade. All the power the weapon Kain once held has now attached itself to you – The Soul Reaver and the Reaver of Souls!"_

Raziel swings his right arm from side to side. He finds that this is indeed some kind of wraith-blade. Yet he oddly feels no elation, for there appear to be no answers to his previous questions but only further riddles blocking the path to his truth.

If this truly is the Soul Reaver now in his possession, why would its "timeless energy" choose to attach itself to him? Why did the blade break at all, when he had personally seen so many others fall to it without leaving so much a scratch on the metal? Furthermore, why would the destruction of his prized weapon please Kain so much?

Indeed, why was Kain apparently not even _surprised_ to see Raziel alive and in the state that he is in? Could Kain have possibly known that he would show up at the Pillars one day, centuries after being thrown into the Abyss?

Raziel has only questions and no answers. Perhaps, he reasons, he will indeed find his answers beyond the Pillars… for none have been found at them.


	3. In the Wake of Zephon

Thanks for the reviews! Here comes another installment. Enjoy!

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Zephon was so different from Melchiah that it took Raziel by surprise. When he finally stole into the chamber of that great beast, he had expected a pitiable creature. Melchiah had been terrible, yes, but the hideousness of his visage was equal to the self-loathing and misery that he had suffered internally. Zephon, however, actually _delighted_ in his monstrosity. He took to his transformations so willingly that he had to some degree been able to advance its growth, as far as Raziel could tell. Spreading his spider's web across the whole of the citadel, Zephon claimed to be a part of every room and passageway and filled with the knowledge of his entire domain.

That knowledge, however great it may have been, was not enough to save him from the brother he betrayed.

Now in possession of that demon's soul, Raziel can feel that a great change has come over him. Obviously, there are the physical characteristics. His ability to manipulate his body to climb walls with the efficiency of an arachnid will prove to be a great aid to him in his pursuit of his remaining foes. Yet the most powerful affect that Zephon has on Raziel is entirely internal.

Zephon fancied himself a god. There was no mistaking that. His love of his metamorphosis was one born purely of madness. Any who could delight in demonic transformation and the spawn of parasites could not to any degree call themselves sane. This lack of mental stability bent toward the manipulation of power for an unholy goal was Zephon's defining attribute. As a result, it is also the greatest factor in Raziel's own evolution.

Raziel jumps from the top of the bell tower and onto a ledge overlooking a vast courtyard. The last few tremors of the quake of energy passes through the Reaver of Souls, leaving him oddly both exhausted and invigorated at the same time. This constant state of contradiction, of an existence of paradox is finally beginning to make some measure of sense to him. It is still a grim lifestyle, he muses, but at least it is better than that prescribed to his former brethren.

He crouches low upon the ledge, looking down into the courtyard with a detached interest. The memory of Zephon's fanatically maniacal mind lingers like a poor, filmy taste in the mouth. The blue, ragged flesh of his face curls into a snarl of disgust. Beside him a dusty old gargoyle seems like a large-eyed puppy in comparison. Raziel snorts at the thought and focuses back upon the courtyard below.

The hellish, spider-like spawn of Zephon continue to mill about in the courtyard. Here is where they capture most of their victims for feeding or turning. Vast webs connect the small buildings in the area to the walls and towers of the citadel. One would think that the broken weapons and grisly remains strewn about on the ground and caught in webbing would seem to discourage any human visitors, but such is obviously not the case. Even now a small group of three human vampire hunters creep into the area, weapons and torches clutched tightly as they search for their quarry.

Raziel cannot help but to find a measure of twisted amusement in the situation. The humans think that they are the predators, hunting the Zephonhim in hopes of eradicating their kind from the face of Nosgoth. He is reminded of the stories of those knights of old, the Seraphan, how they had at one time almost decimated the vampire race if it were not for the ancient hero Vorador.

But those had been Kain's stories and Raziel doubts there could be much truth to them. Certainly now it seems that Kain would say anything at all to trick the mind of his subjects, former or otherwise into service to him. Besides, regardless of the disdain he now feels for the vampire race, Raziel finds it incredibly hard to believe that simple humans could have the power to slaughter so many undead foes – especially when they only hunt in small groups of three.

Even from above Raziel can hear the clicking of mandibles. It is the language of the Zephonhim, a summons alerting others to their prey. The human warriors cast their torches out farther into the growing darkness of the descending dusk. From his vantage point, Raziel can see the vampires advancing on the humans, just out of their vision. There are nearly a dozen of them.

"Do they not know?" Raziel shakes his head in disbelief.

It is not the plight of the humans which interests him. It is the fact that not ten minutes previously Raziel had destroyed the master of these arachnid abominations. The soul had been ripped from his ungodly form and the resulting tumult of energy was enough to make Raziel almost lose all corporeal cohesion. Even more than a physical blow, it was a spiritual storm that should have rocked the entire area.

Raziel thought that the demise of Melchiah left his remaining brood sorrowful and listless. Yet the Zephonhim seem to be totally unaware, still totally consumed with the venture of feeding upon human interlopers. If they truly have no knowledge of the death of their supposed god, then perhaps the link between master and servant has decayed to nothing in this bizarre realm. Upon closer inspection, Raziel has to admit that the condition of the Melchiahim may have been merely supposed – for what else has a rotting corpse truly have left to feel but sorrow and listlessness?

When Raziel had served Kain, he had felt a bond with him that he felt with no other. His Lord was the center of his vampiric being and he was a grateful servant. Kain had no need to utter a word at times, for the anger or satisfaction that was his punishment or gift to his children was always plainly visible to Raziel. He also knew that the same bond was shared between his own brood and himself.

Therefore to now see a land filled with vampires with hearts who know nothing of that bond or of loyalty fills his own heart with rage. To Raziel's eyes, this is the fruit born of the seed that was first sewn with that one great betrayal. His own destruction filled him with a desire for vengeance. Now, this proof of the total lack of whatever was honorable or good about his former vampiric life has no legacy, no procession through the resulting generations of the monstrosity that had once been his own kind. The effect of this knowledge burns a hate so hot and so powerful that his eyes come alive in blue flame.

"Die, foul beast!"

The cry breaks Raziel's reverie. Down below, the humans and Zephonhim are engaging in battle. The vampire hunters are surprisingly effective with their torches, capable of alighting four vampires before having to resort to their swords.

In close-quarters combat, the Zephonhim have the upper hand. As the humans jab with their swords, the vampires easily cut through their defenses and slash at their exposed chests and limbs with their clawed legs. Two of the humans partner together to attack one vampire. As their enemy falls down dead on the ground, two more vampires rush in from behind them. The third human shouts to get their attention, but it is much too late. The Zephonhim pounce on the two humans and immediately begin to feed.

Raziel jumps from the ledge and glides to a position just above the two Zephonhim before dropping down onto them. Taking Zephon's soul improved both his strength and the structure of his taloned hands, the latter of which he now uses to crush the necks of the two vampires. Their souls fly from their bodies, blazing with a green incandescence. Quickly sucking the pathetic, incorporeal forms from the air around him, he now has the energy to draw the Soul Reaver into the physical realm.

For the lone human survivor, it is a macabre scene of nightmares come to life. Only in his darkest dreams could he imagine the demonic fury with which the blue-skinned creature deals with his vampire foes. The shining ghost-sword the creature wields cuts down enemy after enemy with an ease only hinted at by the old stories of gods-sent avenging angels. Whether the creature was an angel or a demon, the man can not say. Only one thing is certain – it is the Reaver of Souls.

"Please, spare me!" The human cries, falling to his knees as Raziel approaches him.

Raziel looks down upon the man in disgust. He is appalled at the cowardice of the person who had at least shown some bravery in coming here.

"I did not come here to harm you," the Reaver of Souls says in a voice as cold as the grave.

"Oh, thank you," the man's face erupts into the grin of one who finds a new friend. "We have heard about you. You're the Reaver of Souls, aren't you? You destroyed the vampires of the marsh? Thank you for saving us!"

Raziel cocks an eyebrow.

"I did not come here to save you, either," he tells the kneeling man before him.

"Th-then, why did you come?" The man begins to stutter in dawning horror.

Raziel looks around to the corpses of the Zephonhim and then to the Soul Reaver attached to his right hand. He had unconsciously willed it into existence after feeding. Feeling somewhat uneasy, he wills the wraith blade to vanish once again.

"I was hungry."

With that, Raziel runs past the man and back into the darkness of the night.


End file.
